Two years have past and gone since that memorable day when the long-lost Zingara sailed into Fisherton Bay.
As far as Barclay, Davie, and Antonio are concerned, they have been eventful years.
Both our heroes have passed their examinations, and have been to India with Antonio, he himself acting as captain of the Zingara, and Davie and Barclay as mates.
But during the time the ship lay at Calcutta, Antonio was absent for two long months.
Two years, then, are past and gone, and the Zingara is once more on the eve of starting from Fisherton Bay.
But not for a long voyage, for—whisper, reader—this is a bridal tour.
The Zingara will cruise only during the sweet summer months along the shores of Spain, where a stay of some weeks will be made, that Antonio and his brother, so long a prisoner in the dungeon of the murdering priests of G——, may visit their proudest acquaintances of the days of auld lang syne.
Yes, the brother is on board. Tall and spare is he, his hair as white as snow, but his complexion fair and young, while his voice is ever tender and quiet, and his smile a sad and chastened one. Oh, no one but himself can tell of the long years of suffering he has passed through.
Who else are on board?
Well, I must not hesitate to answer this question. Let the passengers muster by open list, as we say in the Navy, and present themselves according to age.